Closer
by Bowman0306
Summary: Ally liked her simple, safe life. Yet, the moment someone tried to take that life from her, she was forced to rely on the one person who could be more deadly to her than any killer…
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story will have violence in it, but it is necessary for the plot, so consider yourselves warned. Please feel free to review and let me know if I should continue to write this story. I would greatly appreciate it.**

 **Also…I don't own, nor have I ever owned, Austin and Ally.**

 **Chapter 1**

 _Just a little while longer…a little while longer._ Ally Dawson raised her head up from her desk and gazed at the rowdy group of fifth graders who were currently throwing paper wads at each other and yelling back and forth across the room. _Just a little while longer_. Ally was looking forward to a quiet summer filled with songwriting, gardening, reading and lounging at the beach. She just wanted to have time to enjoy the simple life where there were no rambunctious students that refused to cooperate when she asked them to sing a line of a song or made a habit of hitting each other with their violin bows. All she had to do was be patient for a few more minutes, and her summer vacation would begin.

Sighing, Ally walked over to the piano and banged out the loudest, most dissonant chord she could think of. The students stopped in their tracks, sitting down in their desks and shutting their mouths immediately. Ally's smile was saccharine sweet as she stared her students down. "Now that I have your attention," she began. "I know that this is the last day of school and you're excited about summer vacation, but we are indoors, and I would appreciate it if you would keep it down to a dull roar, okay?" The students nodded and turned back to each other, resuming their gabbing quietly. "And no throwing paper wads! The next person I see throwing one will be staying after class to pick them all up, understand?" The paper-wad throwing desisted.

Sitting back down at her desk, Ally looked at the clock. Excitement started to bloom in her heart. Only five minutes and freedom! The students must have noticed the time as well because they started grabbing their backpacks, their eyes staring at the clock as if they were willing it to finally read three o'clock.

Finally, the class bell rang. Summer vacation had officially begun. The students cheered as they jumped out of their desks and made their way out of the classroom. "Goodbye, everyone," Ally called after them. "Have a great summer! See you next year!" The students barely acknowledged her with half-waves and nods sent in her direction. Laughing to herself, Ally grabbed the trash can by her desk and started picking up the paper wads that had accrued on the floor during the last hour.

"What do you think you're doing, Ally?"

Ally turned toward the voice and grinned. "Hey, Trish. I'm just picking up paper wads. Some of the students found it to be a great way to pass the period away."

Trish frowned, shaking her head as she groaned dramatically. "Well, at least that's all you had to deal with. I literally had to break up a fight between two girls and send them to the principal's office." She plopped down on Ally's desk. "Can you believe that? The very least they could have done was wait until school was over. Then I wouldn't have had to deal with that crap."

Ally sent her best friend a sympathetic look and continued to pick up the remaining balls of paper. "I'm sorry, Trish. I don't know what gets into these kids at the end of the year. It's like they forget how to act like human beings." Ally set the trash can back by the desk and folded her arms. "Let me guess…they were fighting over a boy, huh?"

"What else?" Rolling her eyes, Trish jumped down from the desk and grabbed Ally by her arm. "Let's get out of here before the principal sees us and traps into teaching summer school."

"Right behind you, Trish," Ally grabbed her things and followed Trish, who was hauling ass, out the door. It took some maneuvering; they had to duck behind doors and run down various hallways, but they managed to dodge the principal and make it safely to the parking lot, giggling as they ran to their cars.

"Oh my God," Trish said, hands on knees as she breathed heavily. "That was so close, Ally. I thought we were goners for a second there."

"I know! We really dodged a bullet there," Ally joked, reaching in her purse for her keys. Suddenly, there was something that rushed pass her head and hit the side mirror of her driver's side door. Ally looked at the mirror; it was cracked by a small rock or something. Looking around, Ally felt another gust of wind pass by her head again as something hit her car door. Instantly, Ally realized was happening. "Trish! Get down!" Ally pushed Trish to the ground with her, covering her head with her arms.

"What the hell is going on?" Trish shouted, covering her own head as glass crashed to the ground around them.

"Someone is shooting at us, Trish! Stay down!"

Ally raised her head enough to see teachers running and screaming, trying to take cover behind anything close to them. After a few moments, the shooting seemed to have stopped, when all of a sudden, she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder. "Ow! Trish!" She tried to grab her shoulder when another bullet hit the ground by her head. _Oh my God. I'm going to die._

"Ally!" Trish screamed, trying to reach for her.

"Don't! Don't move, Trish!" The pain in Ally's arm was excruciating, but she didn't dare move again. She simply laid there on the ground, waiting for it all to be over.

* * *

Austin Moon looked down at his watch, inhaling deeply. He exhaled slowly, forcing his body to calm down. He was starting to feel antsy, like something was off. Kyle was never late to an appointment…ever. Austin had been waiting for twenty minutes, and still no Kyle. He glanced around the artsy, nearly secluded coffee shop, its patrons reading or typing away on their laptops. Wistfully, Austin wondered what it would be like to actually have the time to simply sit in a coffee shop and just exist. But his time was not his own; his every move was determined for him, a fate to which he had resigned himself. Deciding not to dwell on something he couldn't have, he glanced back at his watch— _2:55 pm_. Something was definitely wrong. There was no way Kyle would have ever been this late to a meeting. Taking another cleansing breath, Austin got up from the table and walked out of the coffee shop. Putting on his sunglasses, he looked at the parked cars up and down the street. No sign of Kyle's car anywhere. With measured steps, Austin walked over to his black Camaro and got in. He revved the engine and sped out of his spot.

Kyle had told Austin that he had to take care of something at the old library by an elementary school—Hadley Elementary he believed was its name. Speeding into the back lot of the library, Austin looked back down at his watch— _3:00 pm_. Scanning the parking lot, he saw Kyle's car. _What the hell?_ Now he knew something was wrong. He killed the engine, got out of the car and raced toward the building. Kicking in an old entrance door, Austin ran inside the dark, abandoned building, its only source of light shining through the dirt-covered windows. He pulled his 9mm from the waist of his jeans and swung open the door to the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, he listened for any movements. He had just reached the fourth floor stairs when he suddenly heard what sounded like gunshots coming from the top floor—two floors above him. _No! Kyle!_ He raced to the top floor and threw the stairwell door open. With wide eyes, his gaze fell on a familiar figure holding a high-powered assault rifle, deep in concentration as he fired shot after shot out the window. _Manning!_ _You evil—_ The man started, surprised by the sound of the door swinging open. He did a double take at the sight of Austin.

"Moon! What the hell are you doing here? Your buddy Kyle must've contacted you right before I smoked him." Smirking, he nodded over his left shoulder.

Austin turned to his right and saw Kyle lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood. "Manning, you-" Austin turned back to Manning, ready to jump him. Austin hesitated, though, when he saw where the gun was aimed. It was aimed at the parking lot of the elementary school across the street. Austin raised his gun and aimed it at Manning's head. "You've got until right now to drop that rifle or I'm going to put a bullet in your skull."

"Try it, Moon. Your buddy tried to stop me, and he didn't fare too well." Manning quickly knocked the gun out of Austin's hand and pulled a piece from his leather coat with his left hand. He aimed it at Austin and fired. Austin dropped to the ground fast, reaching for his gun, but unable to get to it. Manning aimed the rifle back at the school and commenced with shooting at the parking lot. Desperately, Austin shot to his feet and grabbed the rifle, trying to wrestle it out of Manning's hands. The two men struggled, each trying to overpower the other. Trying to regain the advantage, Manning kneed Austin hard in the stomach, causing Austin to lose his hold on the rifle as he fell to his knees. He clutched his stomach, wheezing and trying to catch his breath. _Think, Austin! Think!_ He had to do something fast or Manning was going to shoot up that entire parking lot. As if on cue, he saw something flash in the corner of his eye: Manning's hand gun. Austin grabbed it and fired at Manning, the bullet hitting him in the left arm. Manning cried out, grabbing his arm as he dropped the rifle. Austin quickly got to his feet, aimed the gun at Manning's head and fired, a sick sense of satisfaction passing through him as the bullet went straight through Manning's temple.

"That's for Kyle, you fucker." Austin watched as Manning slumped to the ground. Austin looked back at his friend's body, anger and sadness spreading through him. "I got him for you, Kyle." Turning his attention back to the window, he stepped over Manning's body and looked out the window. The parking lot was littered with people lying on the ground and crouched behind cars, shattered glass everywhere. Austin had no idea how many casualties there were in that lot. "Shit!" Austin, on the verge of panicking at the sight before him, pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. The dispatcher picked up after the first ring.

"9-1-1. What is your emergency?"

Austin took a deep, calming breath. "There's been a shooting at Hadley Elementary School. Sniper fire. Send help! Now!"

"We're sending someone out right now. What is your name?"

Austin hung up the phone, shoving it back in his pocket. There was no way that he was going to give them his name. He sauntered over to Kyle, his blood soaking the carpet, and bowed down over his body. Shaking his head, he stared into his friend's face. Austin placed his fingers on the lids of Kyle's lifeless eyes and pulled them down. "Rest in peace, brother." Standing, he pulled his phone back out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and waited. After a moment, someone picked up the line. "Yeah…Cruz, this is Moon. I need a cleanup at Madison Library."

 _ **What do you think? Should I continue? Please let me know. Thanks!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**_ _I just want to say "thank you" to everyone that read the first chapter of this story. I especially want to thank those of you that left a review. They were very kind and encouraging. To address some concerns regarding the story, yes, this is DEFINITELY an Auslly story. It will, however, be a_ _ **slow burn**_ _for Austin and Ally. They have some obstacles to overcome first, but I promise you that it will be worth the wait! I hope you all don't mind this weird timeline, but I wanted you to be able to see the situation as it happened through both their eyes. They will be meeting each other very soon (lol). I don't have a set schedule for when I will be posting just yet because of my job. As soon as I figure out how to juggle my writing schedule with my work schedule, then my updates should be more consistent. Thanks again for your support! Enjoy!_

 _Oh yeah...I don't own Austin and Ally in any way, shape, form, or fashion._

 **Chapter 2**

The sound of gunfire had stopped, yet Ally was frozen in place. There was no way that she was going to attempt to move, even with her shoulder aching. Wait…her shoulder was aching.

" _Ally!"_

She could hear someone shouting her name frantically, but is sounded muffled and far away. She wanted to answer, but she couldn't. Her shoulder hurt. She slowly turned and looked at her shoulder. The sleeve of her shirt was red; it was soaked in blood.

" _Ally!"_

Her sleeve was soaked in blood. It was soaked. _My shoulder hurts._ Slowly, she touched her shoulder. The sleeve of her shirt was wet—wet with blood. Her blood. She looked down at her hand. Her hand was wet and covered in blood. _This is my blood. I've been shot._

" _Ally!"_

Someone was screaming. Screaming so loud.

" _Ally!"_

Trish was on her knees beside her. She could feel her friend sitting her up and leaning her up against something hard. The screaming was so loud. Trish was shaking her. Her mouth was moving, but Ally couldn't hear what she was saying. All she could hear was the screaming. _Why won't the screaming stop?_ Something hit her in the face—hard.

" _Ally! Stop screaming! You have got to calm down!"_

The screaming…the screaming was coming from her. She had to stop screaming. It was too loud. She couldn't hear Trish. She had to stop screaming so that she could hear Trish. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, but somehow, she managed to stop screaming, but now she couldn't breathe. Why couldn't she breathe? _"Trish!"_ She couldn't catch her breath, but she had to talk to Trish. She needed to ask Trish to help her. Trish would help her. Ally looked at her friend; there was glass in her hair and her face was scratched, streaked with tears and blood. Trish was bleeding! Why was Trish bleeding? " _Trish! Trish, help me! Help me! Help me!"_ She looked down at her hand, which was shaking. It was shaking and covered in bloody. "Trish! _I've been shot! I've been shot!_ Oh my God, Trish… _help me!_ "

" _I'm trying to help you, Ally_ , but you have to calm down…okay? Okay?" Trish grabbed Ally's chin, forcing Ally to look at her. Trish slowly nodded her head at Ally. Consciously trying to catch her breath, Ally dazedly nodded along with her. Trish would help her. "Calm down, okay?" Trish said slowly, letting of her chin. "Help is coming. Help is coming right now, I promise."

Nodding, Ally let out a shaky breath. "Okay…" she answered softly, trying to take a deep breath and slow down her breathing; she was breathing too fast. She could hear the tears in her voice—the way her voice shook. She could hear sirens. The sirens were getting louder. "Help me, Trish," she whispered shakily. "Help me."

"Help is here right now. They're going to help you, Ally." Trish gently placed Ally's blood-covered hand in her's. "Let them help you, Ally. Okay?"

"Uh-huh." Ally could trust Trish. Trish said these people were going to help her.

Men in blue shirts rushed over to her. "Ma'am?" one of the men asked, crouching over Ally as he nodded his head slowly. "Are you alright?" Ally nodded along with him. "Are you hurt?" Ally just nodded her head slowly. She felt disoriented, the voices fading in and out. She had to focus. She had to hear what Trish was saying.

"She's in shock." Trish's voice sounded rushed… _frantic_. Why did she sound so frantic? Trish had told her to calm down, so why didn't Trish sound calm? "She was shot in the shoulder. I've been trying to calm her down, but I don't know if I've been able to reach her."

"We'll take care of her, ma'am. What is her name?"

"It's Ally. Ally Dawson. Is she going to be alright?"

"We are going to do our best to help her, Ms…"

"…de La Rosa. Trish de La Rosa."

"We're taking her straight to the hospital, Ms. de La Rosa, and the doctors will take care of her from there, okay?"

Taking her to the hospital? _I need to go to the hospital. I need help. I've been shot._ Slowly, Ally began to recognize the men in blue shirts. They were paramedics. They were here to help her. Trish said they would help her. She felt herself being laid back on the ground, and then she felt herself being lifted and placed and strapped down onto a table…a gurney. She was being wheeled to an ambulance.

"Okay, Ms. Dawson. We're going to put you in the back of the ambulance and take you to the hospital now." Ally stared up at the paramedic as he spoke. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind face. Trish said to let him help her. "We'll take good care of you."

They were going to take care of her. Trish said they would. "Can Trish come with me?" Ally asked softly, her voice sounding like that of a frightened child.

The man's eyes were filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Ms. Dawson, but only family is allowed to ride in the ambulance."

Ally could feel the panic begin to rise in her chest. "But I need Trish. Trish has to come with me. _Trish! Come with me! Don't leave me! Please!"_

"Ms. Dawson, you have to calm down! It's imperative that we get you to the hospital immediately."

"But Trish has to come with me. _Trish!"_ Frantically, Ally reached for Trish with her left arm and cried out; the sharp pain was unbearable. _My shoulder hurts so much!_

" _Please_ let me ride in the ambulance with Ally," Trish begged the paramedic. "She needs me."

The paramedic looked between Ally and Trish, and then he gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. But we need to go now!" They put Ally into the ambulance and began to stabilize her.

"Where's Trish?" Ally couldn't go without Trish. She needed her help.

"I'm right here, Ally! I'm right here." Trish was there, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand. Trish would help her.

* * *

 _Where in the hell are the freakin' clean up guys?_ Austin looked at his watch— _3:13 pm._ The paramedics, fire trucks and, most importantly, the _police_ would be at the school any minute. The last thing Austin needed was to deal with the police, but he'd had to call 911. He couldn't just leave those people to suffer. However, his 'heroic deed' was causing him a lot of worry, and rightfully so. Dragging a dead body out of the library across the street from a shooting, with loads of cops milling around, was going to be difficult, to say the least. But there was no way in hell that he was going to let those innocent people die because of that bastard Manning. Austin felt no remorse for killing Manning. He was a sadistic psychopath with no heart. Not that Austin was that much of a better person than Manning. Who was he to judge, really? In many ways, he and Manning were the same—they killed people for a living. They were both killers. However, Austin would never take a job that involved shooting up an elementary school parking lot. He did have some scruples.

Impatiently, Austin paced the floor, running his hands through his hair. Unease coursed through Austin's veins. He couldn't take another unwelcome surprise today. Reluctantly, he grabbed Manning's arms and dragged him away from the window. Since the cleanup crew was taking their sweet-ass time getting there, he figured he might as well get started with the actual cleanup. As he sat Manning's arms down on the floor, Austin debated with himself over whether or not to go over to the window and see just how much damage Manning had caused with his shooting spree. Against his better judgment, but satisfying his curiosity, he walked to the window, kicking Manning's assault gun out of his way. He stared out at the parking lot and saw that people were beginning to mill around now that the gunfire had stopped. For the most part, there didn't seem to be too much damage to most of the cars in the parking lot. In fact, most of the shards of glass and bullets were concentrated in one area… _Oh fuck! I'm so stupid!_ If Austin would have been thinking instead of reacting, he would've realized what Manning was doing. That was no school shooting—that was a hit. Austin looked up at the ceiling and groaned. He was going to be in such deep shit. He'd forgotten assassin rule number one: don't move in on anyone else's hit, no matter the circumstances. But what was Kyle doing there, then? Why did he move in on Manning's hit? It didn't really matter though; Boss was going to have his ass. Austin was already on Boss's shit list. Once he heard about this latest debacle, Boss was sure to alter his contract…again. _Fuck my life!_ Austin was starting to contemplate all the ways that Boss was going to screw him when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Finally.

"Hey, Ghost! You up there?" a deep, raspy voice rumbled, echoing through the stairwell.

Austin groaned inwardly; he hated that nickname. He wished it'd never been given to him. "Yeah, Dagger! I'm here. What the hell took you so long?"

"Well," Dagger began as he entered the hallway. "We would have gotten here sooner if there weren't so many five-o speeding through here. What's going on?"

"Yeah, what the heck, Austin?" A familiar, yet unexpected voice asked behind him. _What the hell is Dez doing here?_

Austin turned around and examined his best friend closely. Dez was wearing a bright yellow shirt that read "Anytime With Me Is A Good Time". It fit his frenetic, happy demeanor perfectly. Dez couldn't have looked more out of place at this morose scene. "Dez, man, I came here to see what had happened to Kyle. He was late for our meeting, and he's never been late. I knew something was wrong, so I came here because he said that he had to stop here before the meet up." Austin placed his hands on his hips and looked Dez in the eye. "Manning was here; he had already killed Kyle before I got here." He looked over at Kyle, then back at Dez. "The crazy bastard was shooting up the parking lot of the _fuckin' elementary school_ across the street. We fought, and I managed to kill that S-O-B. But I was too late anyway. Kyle is dead, and Manning probably killed someone at that damn school."

Dez placed a hand on Austin's shoulder, his face sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Austin. I know you and Kyle were close." Austin shrugged, trying to go for nonchalance and knowing he probably failed.

"Well, that explains all the cops in the area." Dagger, ever the professional with his buzzcut and hard, emotionless face, pulled out the necessary supplies and started to clean up the area. "Hey, Joker! Get your ass over here and help me with this, man."

"I'm coming, dude. You know I don't normally do cleanup. This is not in my job description." Dez sent Austin another sympathetic look and headed over to help Dagger put Kyle's body in a body bag. "Eww! This is disgusting! I don't get paid enough to do this."

Dagger, huffed out an exasperated sigh and gave Dez a hard, annoyed look. "Shut up, Joker! Just help me put Kyle's body in the damn bag."

"Alright, alright!" Dez gingerly picked up Kyle's feet, cringing as he stepped in his blood. "Geez! I think I'm gonna throw up." Dez started gagging, his face turning a pallid shade of green.

"Oh, shit, Dez!" Dagger looked over at Austin pleadingly. "Ghost, please help me. Dez obviously can't do this. I don't know why they insisted that I bring him along with me in the first place." He sneered at Dez as he continued to gag.

"Sure, Dagger. You can go back to the car, Dez. Dagger and I will finish up here." Austin slowly sauntered over to Kyle's body, picked up his feet, and started helping Dagger maneuver his body into the body bag.

"And don't you dare throw up in the van, Joker!" Dagger shouted after Dez, his rough voice echoing through the hallway. "I don't want it smelling like puke in there!"

Austin shook his head as he concentrated in getting the lower half of his friend's body in the bag.

"Hey, man. I'm really sorry," Dagger said quietly. "I know you and Kyle were tight."

Austin looked up to see Dagger's eyes, seeing the remorse there. "Thanks, man. But, you know, that's the game. Shit happens, even to the best." Austin waited for Dagger to zip up the body bag, unwilling to look at Kyle's face. Inwardly cursing his given 'profession', he and Dagger picked up the bag and proceeded to carry Kyle's body down to van. They left Manning's body stretched out in the middle of the hallway. _Burn in hell, you sick bastard,_ Austin thought angrily as they walked passed Manning's body. Taking one last glance at the window, Austin followed Dagger into the stairwell, the weight of his friend's death bearing down him like the many other proverbial weights on his chest, slowly crushing him.

 ** _Please feel free to review. All questions are welcome. Thanks!_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Notes:**_ First of all, I would like to apologize if the previous chapters were a trigger for anyone considering all of the recent violent occurrences. I'm not, nor would I ever, make light of these situations. This was simply a plot device so that I could establish that circumstances under which Austin and Ally meet. Also, I have decided not to use Lester as Ally's dad; I wanted her dad to be a little more… _shady_. So, Ally has a new dad. Thanks for reading this story, especially those of you that left a review. I appreciate it! If you keep letting me know what you think, then I will keep writing. Oh…and I still don't own Austin and Ally. Damn.

 **Chapter 3**

A blanket of warmth cocooned Ally, her head resting on a soft, fluffy pillow. She felt so safe, so comfortable. Yet, despite the warmth, something felt off—foreign. She felt heavily sedated. Ally tried to open her heavy lids, her vision hazy. Blinking a few times until her vision cleared, she saw that she was surrounded in darkness, save the dim fluorescent light on the ceiling. _Where am I?_ Disoriented, Ally tried to sit up, but when she did, she found that her movement was restricted. Glancing over at her shoulder, Ally saw the gauze sticking out from under the sleeve of her hospital gown. _Wait. Hospital gown? What's going on?_ Her whole body felt heavy and stiff, as if she had been asleep for days. Looking over to her right, there was an i.v. stuck in her hand, a black plastic device attached to her finger, and various monitors with readings on the screens. Finally, the cobwebs began to clear from her brain. She was in a hospital room.

"Ally?"

Ally turned toward the voice calling her name. It was Trish sitting in a hard, plastic chair beside her bed.

"Trish," Ally replied, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"Ally! You're awake!" Trish jumped up from the chair and hugged Ally tightly. "Thank God!"

With heavy limbs, Ally tried to return the hug, only to be reminded that the movement in her left arm was restricted. Ally looked at Trish as she pulled back from the hug, seeing the numerous cuts on Trish's usually bright face—a face that was now filled with a mixture of worry and relief. "Trish! What happened to your face?" She reached out to touch Trish's face, but Trish quickly moved out of Ally's reach.

Trish eyes squinted in confusion. "You don't remember what happened? The parking lot after school?"

Ally gave Trish a blank look. "The parking lot after school?" Trish nodded in an effort to encourage Ally to remember. She felt so confused. What happened in the school parking lot? Ally burrowed further into her pillow and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on what Trish was talking about. She struggled for a few moments, her head feeling like lead as she tried to piece together what had happened. It had been the last day of school. She and Trish had run through the halls, trying to dodge the principal so they wouldn't get roped into teaching summer school. They had run to their cars, laughing about their victorious escape. She remembered turning to open her car door when she felt something fly passed her face and break her side-view mirror. The mirror had cracked… _the parking lot_! There had been shooting. Someone was shooting at them in the parking lot! _"Oh God!_ Someone was shooting at us, Trish! _Someone shot at us!"_ Carefully, Ally looked back over at her bandaged shoulder, the threat of intense panic rising in her chest. "I was shot in my shoulder!" Looking back at the cuts on Trish's face, she felt her panic continuing to rise. _"Oh my God, Trish_! Are you alright? You didn't get shot, did you?" She gave Trish a quick once over, looking for anything on Trish's body that could be attributed to a gun wound or any other injury. Struggling, but determined, Ally managed to sit up and touch Trish's face.

Trish chuckled, her face somehow managing to display both her annoyance and fondness simultaneously. "Calm down! I'm fine, Ally, I promise. Just a few scratches. Nothing I can't handle. Okay? Everything's fine." She patted Ally's arm reassuringly. "And everyone else that was in the parking lot is fine, too. Look." Trish pointed to the table beside Ally's bed. It was covered with flowers, balloons, and cards. "All the teachers and staff from school sent you these. You really had everyone worried."

"Worried?" Ally's voice wavered as she looked at Trish suspiciously. "I thought you said everything was fine."

Trish opened her mouth to speak, then paused, contemplating how to relay the shooting. Exhaling deeply, Trish finally spoke. "You were in shock after the shooting, Ally. You were hysterical. The doctors had to sedate you in order to even get a look at your shoulder because you wouldn't let them touch you. You kept insisting that I was the only one that you could help you and wouldn't let anyone else get close to you." Ally looked down at her hands, her face heating with embarrassment. She knew that she had been in shock, but she couldn't help but be embarrassed "Ally," Trish continued hesitantly, "you've been unconscious for a day and a half. The doctor's had to perform emergency surgery on your shoulder. They said the bullet hit a major artery and that you lost a lot of blood. You had to have a blood transfusion. You've been unconscious for hours. We've all been worried sick! Especially your dad. He's been running in and out of here like a madman." Trish shrugged. "I'm surprised he's not here right now."

A sudden wave of nausea hit Ally, forcing her to lie back down slowly, taking care to not aggravate her shoulder. "My dad was here?" she asked, surprised. "I thought he was in Boston on business for the past few weeks."

"Ally?" Ally and Trish both jumped in surprise and turned toward the deep, gruff voice. As if on cue, standing in the doorway of the room was Ally's father, Derek Dawson. "Ally!" he exclaimed, the relief evident on his face. He rushed over to Ally and kissed her forehead. "How are you feeling, baby?"

"I'm fine, Daddy. Other than getting shot, I'm just fine." Ally gave her dad a weak smile, hoping that her lame attempt at humor would calm her father down. It didn't.

Frowning deeply, his jaw clenched, her dad's eyes darkened with rage. "Don't you _dare_ make light of this, Ally!" He gripped her hand tightly. "You could have been _killed!_ Do you understand that? _Do you?"_ He squeezed her hand so hard that it was beginning to hurt. "You could have died, baby. I could have lost you." He sniffled, his eyes brimming with tears. "I can't lose you, Ally," he whispered softly. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

Clearing her throat, Trish headed to the door, knowing that Ally and her dad needed space. "I'll leave you two alone. I'll be back soon, Ally. Goodbye, Mr. Dawson."

"Goodbye, Trish." He gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you for keeping an eye on Ally for me."

"Anytime. I'm just glad I could be here when Ally woke up." She walked back over to Ally and hugged her. "Get some rest, Ally."

Smiling warmly, Ally returned the hug as best she could. "Thanks for everything, Trish."

"Hey. That's what friends are for. I'm so glad that you're awake. See ya later!" Giving Ally one last squeeze, she released her and exited of the room, closing the door behind her softly.

Ally turned her attention back to her father. "I'm sorry, Dad. That was a bad joke. I didn't mean to upset you." Ally looked down at her hand, which her father still had in a death grip. "My hand is starting to hurt, Dad."

Derek quickly let go of her hand, chuckling softly. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I guess I'm just glad to see you up and talking." Sitting in the chair Trish had vacated, he ran his hand over her hair, sending her a watery smile as tears continued to well up in his eyes. "I'm just so grateful that you're still with me, Ally." A few tears began to fall.

Ally studied her father's handsome face, which was fraught with worry and relief. His normally perfectly-styled dark brown hair was mussed as if he had been running his hand through it. A five-o'clock shadow was sprouting on his face, and his dark eyes were red with heavy bags under them. Even his usual perfectly-pressed suit was rumpled. How long had he been here? Ally touched his face softly, wiping away some stray tears. "I'm not leaving you, Daddy. I promise. I'm going to be fine." She ran her thumb over his stubbled cheek. "Weren't you in Boston? I thought the trip was really important."

" _Ally!"_ Derek snapped, pulling away from Ally. His eyes were wide with hurt. "I came back the _minute_ I was told that you had been shot. Why would I possibly still be in Boston, Ally? _Damn Boston!_ Don't you know how much I love you? There isn't a trip in this world that's more important than you."

Racked with guilt, Ally took hold of her father's hand, lacing their finger together. "I wasn't implying that you didn't love me, Dad. Please don't think that. _Please._ I know how much you love me. If you didn't, you wouldn't be here with me right now." She smiled lovingly at him, squeezing his hand lightly.

Derek kissed her back of her hand, squeezing her hand in return. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, baby. I'm just upset." He looked deeply into Ally's eyes, rage and determination increasing in them with each passing second. "I'm going to find out who did this, Ally, and when I do, they're going to pay," he growled menacingly. "I swear to you, baby. They're going to pay."

"Daddy?" Ally's stomach dropped. "No, Daddy. Please don't." She knew her father well; she knew exactly what Derek would do—what he was capable of. "Please don't do anything!" she begged. "I'm going to be fine. There's no need to do anything."

"What part of 'you were shot' do you not understand, Ally?" Derek yelled, his eyes blazing with fury. Ally flinched and jerked her hand from his. "I can't just let this go!"

"Please don't yell at me, Dad." Ally pleaded, turning away from him. She hated when he got like this.

"Ally?' Ally didn't answer him. "Ally, baby? Baby, I'm sorry." Derek made his way around the bed, determined to make her look at him. "I'm so sorry." His expression was repentant, clearly sorry for yelling at her. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just so mad…I just don't want anyone to hurt you, okay? Do you get that, Ally? You're all I've got left. I'm not going to lose you. I will protect you, no matter the cost." His strong chin was set rigidly, his eyes hard as stone. Ally knew that look all too well; he wasn't going to waver, and she wasn't about to defy him. His mind was made up. There wasn't a force in the world that would keep Derek Dawson from getting what he wanted. And he wanted revenge. Nothing she said would possibly change his mind.

"I don't want to lose you, either, Daddy." Ally sighed. "I get it."

Derek's face relaxed; he knew Ally wasn't going to fight him. "Good, sweetie." He kissed her forehead and ran his hand over her hair once more. "I'm going to talk to your doctor for a few moments, and then I'm going to run a few errands. Will you be okay for a few hours?"

"Sure, Dad." Ally pasted a smile on her face. "I'll be fine. I love you."

"I love you, too, baby. I'll be back as soon as I can." Gently, her father ran his thumb across Ally's cheek. "Goodbye, Ally."

"Goodbye, Dad." Ally watched her father leave, a feeling of dread settling heavily in her stomach. Exhaling loudly, she started the task of mentally preparing herself for the storm that was coming.

* * *

 _Plaisir_ was packed with the young and the beautiful, the club's dimly-lit, smoke-filled atmosphere charged with lust and sex. The bar was surrounded by people in search of the liquor that would get them plastered and give them the liquid courage they needed to find someone to take home, or at least to a bathroom, for a quick fuck. _Lucky them_. Austin would have given anything to be able to engage in the mindless, crazy fun with them, without a care in the world. At twenty-five, it should be what he was doing on a Saturday night, and yet, there he sat, waiting for his next 'assignment' to appear. Bummed, he nursed his beer as he continued to people-watch.

Austin hated these kinds of jobs. All the gyrating, drunken bodies and deep-bass house music just made him sad and horny. It had been a while since he had gotten laid, and he was overdue for some good, stress-relieving, no-strings-attached sex. But now was not the time to think about the current sad state of affairs that was his life. He had to be on his A-game, especially after that major fuck up at the library. Amends had to be made, and it had been made very clear to him that if he screwed up this job, he was as good as dead. He had to be the Ghost. He had to get in and out without ever been seen, as if he was invisible—like a ghost. Boss especially loved that about Austin—he looked so young, so innocent that no one suspected that he could kill you in the blink of an eye. His looks allowed him to blend right in these kinds of scenes. And he did blend in well—a little too well. For once in his life, his looks worked _against_ him. And he hated it. _Fuck my life._

Taking another pull from his beer bottle, Austin set the bottle down and pushed it across the table. The last thing he needed was to be buzzed. Drumming his fingers on the table in boredom, he looked back over to the bar. Gutierrez hadn't shown up yet. It was getting late, but Austin could wait. He had learned to be very patient in this game; making rash decisions got you killed. Austin knew he had gotten lucky during his altercation with Manning. He had let his emotions get the best of him, and if he wasn't so good with a gun, he knew he would have been lying in a pool of his own blood like Kyle. Shaking his head, he cleared his mind of that visual. He needed focus. He couldn't mess this up. As much as he hated his life, he wasn't keen on losing it anytime soon.

"Hey, handsome."

Austin looked up to see a reasonably hot bottle-blonde wearing too much makeup and not enough dress eyeing him like he was her next meal. Normally, he would have been cool with that. She looked like a no-strings-attached kind of girl. But not tonight. "Hey there. What's up?"

Slinking into the empty chair beside him, she leaned into his personal space, her lips grazing his ear. "You, hopefully," she said in what Austin was sure was a practiced seductive purr. She leaned back and looked at Austin through thick, false eyelashes. "What do you say, Blondie? Would like to get it up for me and fuck me senseless in the ladies room?"

 _Classy._ She was just giving her...'virtue' away, apparently happy to hand it out to anyone who was willing take it. Poor girl. "Sorry sweetheart, but I don't think that my boyfriend would like that." Taking in the shock on the blonde's face, Austin almost laughed. He always threw women with that one. "Besides," he continued, "he's not really into threesomes. Well, not threesomes that involve a chick."

"Well," she huffed, getting up from her seat. "Your loss, Blondie." Austin rolled his eyes as he watched her strut toward the dance floor, her dress riding up her thighs so much that you could see her ass cheeks.

"You have a good night, sweetheart." Austin shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. This was ridiculous. This club, these people, this assignment—this was all complete bullshit. He was about to take another sip of his beer just for the hell of it when he saw the man he was looking for. Gutierrez was talking to the manager to get a heads up on how business was going for the night. Austin watched him surreptitiously, waiting for him to head to the back of the club. After a few moments of conversing with the club manager, Gutierrez walked through the door that led to his office.

Austin played the waiting game for a couple more minutes. He couldn't be too eager. He was the Ghost, after all—in and out, undetected. Looking down his watch, he decided it was time to move. Rising up from his chair, he weaved through the crowd of sweaty bodies toward the exit. Once he was outside, he inhaled the cool night air, clearing his head of the sights, smells and sounds of the club. Checking the pocket inside his leather jacket, he felt the silencer resting there, just waiting to be used. His gun was safely nestled in the waist of his jeans. He was ready. Unnoticed, he headed toward the back of the club. Just like every stereotypical club, it had a dark alley that led to the back door. Austin's steps were careful and quiet as he slowly reached the door. It was locked, of course, but that wasn't a problem. Getting in and out of places was one of the Ghost's specialties.

After picking the lock, Austin stepped inside, checking for the flow of employees that could be running through the area. Just as he'd figured, the entire staff was in the front, busy keeping the liquor flowing to its lonely, sex-starved patrons. Letting his memory of the layout of the back of the club guide him, he stealthily walked through the club's few hallways until he reached Gutierrez's office. Softly, he opened the door to the darkened office and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him silently. Taking a few moments to let his eyes to adjust to the dark, he moved behind the bookshelf a few feet from Gutierrez's desk. This position allowed him to see Gutierrez, whereas Gutierrez would never know Austin was there, and if he did spot Austin, it would be too late. Austin pulled his handgun from the waist of his jeans, removed the silencer from his jacket pocket, and blankly screwed it onto the end of the gun. It was second nature to him, assembling a gun in the dark. The weight of the gun felt familiar, natural in his hand. Now, it was once again time to wait. Austin was always waiting. He waited with learned patience. He couldn't screw this up.

Time passed slowly, testing Austin's patience. He was tired of waiting. Suddenly, Austin heard the doorknob jiggle and Gutierrez open the door. The waiting was almost over. Gutierrez switched on the light, closing the door behind him. Gutierrez strolled over to his desk with an easy, relaxed gait. Unfortunately, he didn't know this was going to be his last stroll. Whistling a tune Austin didn't recognize, Gutierrez plopped down into his plush chair and turned on his computer. He was perfectly adjacent from Austin. This was going to be easy. Raising his gun, Austin aimed carefully; there was no room for error. It had to be clean shot—just one. When he was certain that his aim was dead-on, he fired, the silencer muffling the sound of the bullet that went straight through Gutierrez's temple. Gutierrez's body slumped over onto the desk, blood starting to ooze onto the computer's keyboard. The poor bastard. He never knew what hit him.

* * *

Austin reached his unmarked car, glad to done. He just wanted a stiff drink and to sleep for the next two days. Stepping into the car, he shut the door and cranked up the engine He was about to pull out of his parking spot when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Huffing in exasperation, he pulled out his phone and looked at the name going across the screen. It was Dez. He had already called in about the job, so what was Dez calling for? "Dez, man! What's up? It's, like, 11:30. Did you want to go out or something?"

"I wish," Dez scoffed. "Number 2 wants to talk to you. I'm patching him through to you right now."

Number 2? What the hell did Number 2 want with him? "Dez, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, hello, Austin. I don't know what the hell Dez was talking about, either, but I can guarantee that it is nowhere close to being as important as what I need to speak to you about…or rather, what the boss needs to speak to you about." It was Number 2. No one ever spoke to him unless they were in serious shit. _What the fuck?_

"Boss needs to speak to me?" Austin tried to keep his voice from trembling. This was bad.

"Yes, Austin. Right way," Number 2 answered dismissively, like speaking to Austin was a waste of his valuable time. "As in, like, ten minutes ago. If I were you, I would do my best to get here quickly. Goodbye, Austin."

Number 2 disconnected the call abruptly That was all the sign Austin needed to get his ass in gear. He had to get to Boss's office— _immediately. Man! I'm in deep shit!_

Austin stepped on the gas and zoomed out of the parking lot. He sped through the streets in a blur, weaving in and out of lanes. He wasn't worried about getting a ticket, though; he was positive that Boss had all the police stand down when they spotted his car. However, he was worried about Boss wanting to see him directly. Austin always received his assignments from a 'contact', like when he used to meet with Kyle. It had to be something major if Boss wanted to see him personally. Maybe he had decided to kill Austin after all.

Hauling ass, Austin arrived at Boss's place—a plain old brownstone that had been converted to an office for running his 'businesses'. Pulling into the parking lot, Austin jogged up to the doors, only to be stopped by security. He groaned inwardly; he knew it was standard procedure, but damn it, they knew who he was. They were hindering his progress. Boss was going to have his ass. Austin had no idea why he was rushing to his impending death, but he was in too big of hurry to consider it. As much as Austin loved the idea of living, he was too proud to beg for his life and he didn't plan on starting now. If he was meeting his death, then he would face Boss like a man and get it over with as quickly as possible. Fuck running.

After what seemed like forever, Austin finally reached Boss's office. Number 2, of course, was waiting for him, smiling like a cat that just ate the canary. It was a bad sign; that smile further convinced Austin that he was about to meet his death. "I'm glad to see you made it, Austin. The boss is ready to see you. Please go right in."

Pushing down the uneasy he couldn't stop feeling, he closed his eyes, took a cleansing breath, and opened Boss's door.

"Please come in, Mr. Moon. And please shut the door behind you." Boss's usually smooth voice sounded raspy and tired.

 _What the hell is going on?_ "Yes, sir."

"Please have a seat, Mr. Moon."

"Yes, sir." Austin sat down in the black, minimalist-style chair in front of Boss's black, streamlined minimalist-style desk. Furtively, he took in Boss's appearance: his silk, white shirt was rolled up to his elbows; his tie was hanging loosely from his neck; his hair was ruffled; and his eyes were red with dark bags under them. Boss was usually the picture of calm and control, but the man before was anything but calm or in control. Something was definitely wrong. _What the actual fuck is going on?_

Sighing deeply, Boss leaned forward tiredly, his elbows resting on the desk. "I have a new assignment for you, Mr. Moon. Top priority…the _highest_ priority. You can't fail me, Mr. Moon. I'm depending on you. Understand?" He sounded desperate—anxious.

Austin exhaled in relief. _Thank God! I'm not about to die_! _Boss simply has an assignment for me._ However, the urgency of Boss's voice registered, and Austin began to feel a sinking sense of impending doom. _Why does he want to speak to me directly?_ Pushing his thoughts to back of his mind, he concentrated on his boss."Of course, sir." Austin answered Boss carefully, totally confused and a little frightened. He wasn't above admitting that the man scared the living shit out of him—particularly at this moment. Austin had never seen Boss like this before. Boss was irate; his eyes crazed, almost like a wild animal ready to attack its prey. He was on the precipice of exploding, destroying anything that crossed his path. Obviously, this assignment was personal for Boss. Gulping at the realization that he was directly in that path, Austin hurriedly thought of escape routes out of the office. They were futile, of course—there was no escaping Boss—ever. He didn't want to be anywhere near Boss when Boss went off. But there he was sitting across from the scariest man he'd ever met who looked far scarier than Austin had ever seen him. This was going to be bad; he could feel it in his bones. He didn't want this assignment, and hadn't even been told what it was. Personal vendettas were always messy, which was why Austin tried to steer clear of them. But, unfortunately, he had no say in what assignments were. He simply took was given to him. Inhaling deeply, he asked the question that he didn't want to know the answer to. "What is the assignment?"

His boss paused for moment, prolonging the tension in the suddenly-too-small office. Finally, Derek Dawson spoke, his menacing growl laced with rage as he stared Austin square in the eye. "I need you to protect my daughter, Mr. Moon."

 ** _Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!_**


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